Psalm of Disorientation

Oh, Lord, my desires are disordered.
I've made an idol and fallen into worshiping my plans over your good ways.
Send out Your light and Your truth, and lead me.
Wake me with remembrance of your goodness.
You have not failed, Your power has not waned, but I feel cast off and forsaken by You.
Years of waiting have left me feeling bitter as Naomi; call me Mara.
Oh, Lord, how do I remember Your promises when I am in captivity and the walls are still destroyed?
Your city is in ruins, but You say it will be fruitful and filled with abundance. This is so far from happening it seems impossible. You say to me "I have taken care of Your needs and I know Your desires."
(It's in the bag).
Yet now all I hear is silence when I cry, "How long O Lord."
Why the echo chamber?
What is precious about these decades and these tears?
Have I forsaken the vows of my youth? Have I not followed you above my own desires (as best as I can)? Have I not left houses and family and friends and familiar lands?
I lay all my longing before you.
I believe you are still capable.
Your arm is not shortened, it can save, in Your way and Your time.
I surrender again.
I repent and renounce my vows and plans.
Your will and Your way, O God of the breakthrough. God of angel armies. God of deliverance.
May I see your deliverance and answers. And may my sisters rejoice with me too as You bring their fulfillment.
Oh, Lord, where I have felt judgment and labels, I receive that You give me a good name. You give me Your good name.
Oh, Lord, where I have given up hope, I receive Your beautiful inheritance of hope that does not disappoint and Your love that does not fail.
Your love does not falter, wilt, diminish, or fade.
In the deep ache of long carried desire, I reground myself in Your long-suffering, that You are still waiting for Your bride. I join You in the treasure of waiting. Thank you for knowing my ache.
From a heart that has grown sick and bitter from a desire unfulfilled, bring Your tree of life.
Meet me in the waiting.
Shower me with rains in the desert. May I bloom with joy and gladness at your appearing.
Weeping may last for the night but joy comes in the morning.
My mourning will end. My sackcloth will be replaced with robes of gladness. My mourning will turn to dancing.
I have sown in tears and I will reap in joy, carrying my sons with me.
The loneliness that leads me to You and none besides.
None but You will satisfy.